Coffee and Repartee | Page 8

glance of the eye what you
would fail to comprehend with fourteen ears and a microphone."
"Very well said," put in the Idiot, with a scornful glance at the
School-master. "And I literally heard the pool tournament. I was dining

in a room off the billiard-hall, and every shot that was made, with the
exception of the one I spoke of, was distinctly audible. You gentlemen,
who think you know it all, wouldn't be able to supply a bureau of
information at the rate of five minutes a day for an hour on a holiday.
Let's go up-stairs," he added, turning to the Imbiber, "where we may
discuss our last night's entertainment apart from this atmosphere of
rarefied learning. It makes me faint."
And the Imbiber, who was with difficulty keeping his lips in proper
form, was glad enough to accept the invitation. "The corks popped to
some purpose last night," he said, later on.
"Yes," said the Idiot; "for a conspiracy there's nothing so helpful as
popping corks."

V
"When you get through with the fire, Mr. Pedagog," observed the Idiot,
one winter's morning, noticing that the ample proportions of the
School-master served as a screen to shut off the heat from himself and
the genial gentleman who occasionally imbibed, "I wish you would let
us have a little of it. Indeed, if you could conveniently spare so little as
one flame for my friend here and myself, we'd be much obliged."
"It won't hurt you to cool off a little, sir," returned the School-master,
without moving.
"No, I am not so much afraid of the injury that may be mine as I am
concerned for you. If that fire should melt our only refrigerating
material, I do not know what our good landlady would do. Is it true, as
the Bibliomaniac asserts, that Mrs. Smithers leaves all her milk and
butter in your room overnight, relying upon your coolness to keep them
fresh?"
"I never made any such assertion," said the Bibliomaniac, warmly.
"I am not used to having my word disputed," returned the Idiot, with a

wink at the genial old gentleman.
"But I never said it, and I defy you to prove that I said it," returned the
Bibliomaniac, hotly.
"You forget, sir," said the Idiot, coolly, "that you are the one who
disputes my assertion. That casts the burden of proof on your shoulders.
Of course if you can prove that you never said anything of the sort, I
withdraw; but if you cannot adduce proofs, you, having doubted my
word, and publicly at that, need not feel hurt if I decline to accept all
that you say as gospel."
"You show ridiculous heat," said the School-master.
"Thank you," returned the Idiot, gracefully. "And that brings us back to
the original proposition that you would do well to show a little
yourself."
"Good-morning, gentlemen," said Mrs. Smithers, entering the room at
this moment. "It's a bright, fresh morning."
"Like yourself," said the School-master, gallantly.
"Yes," added the Idiot, with a glance at the clock, which registered
8.45--forty-five minutes after the breakfast hour--"very like Mrs.
Smithers--rather advanced."
To this the landlady paid no attention; but the School-master could not
refrain from saying,
"Advanced, and therefore not backward, like some persons I might
name."
"Very clever," retorted the Idiot, "and really worth rewarding. Mrs.
Smithers, you ought to give Mr. Pedagog a receipt in full for the past
six months."
"Mr. Pedagog," returned the landlady, severely, "is one of the
gentlemen who always have their receipts for the past six months."

"Which betrays a very saving disposition," accorded the Idiot. "I wish I
had all I'd received for six months. I'd be a rich man."
[Illustration: "'IF YOU COULD SPARE SO LITTLE AS ONE
FLAME'"]
"Would you, now?" queried the Bibliomaniac. "That is interesting
enough. How men's ideas differ on the subject of wealth! Here is the
Idiot would consider himself rich with $150 in his pocket--"
"Do you think he gets as much as that?" put in the School-master,
viciously. "Five dollars a week is rather high pay for one of his--"
"Very high indeed," agreed the Idiot. "I wish I got that much. I might
be able to hire a two-legged encyclopædia to tell me everything, and
have over $4.75 a week left to spend on opera, dress, and the poor but
honest board Mrs. Smithers provides, if my salary was up to the $5
mark; but the trouble is men do not make the fabulous fortunes
nowadays with the ease with which you, Mr. Pedagog, made yours.
There are, no doubt, more and greater opportunities to-day than there
were in the olden time, but there are also more men trying to take
advantage of them. Labor in the business world is badly watered. The
colleges are